


The Bitter Exes Club

by chemiglee



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, non-canon, tw: marital infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemiglee/pseuds/chemiglee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tina starts the Bitter Exes Club at McKinley, she doesn't understand the web she's weaving.  AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bitter Exes Club

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for marital infidelity and throwing things. This is not a happy fic. Definitely AU.
> 
> All characters are at or above the age of consent.
> 
> I do not own Glee or its characters.

I  
In the divorce, Tina got the Chelsea townhouse, all the furniture, and Marley. 

Sam wasn't attached to either the house or the furniture and he certainly wasn't fond of the cat, so losing Marley wasn't losing, at least not in the way he was losing Tina. Marley the cat gazed with adoring wide marble-blue eyes and seductively wound her tail about Tina's legs as she puttered around the house in the mornings, getting ready for work at the theater. Then Marley would sit on the hearth side rug, calmly licking her black paws after her breakfast, and Tina would leave and _blam_ , she would spit and hiss if Sam even tried to pet the top of her silky head. He had to retreat to the studio in the back of the house and make sure the cat didn't stalk him inside, tail upright and twitching from side to side. The cat wasn't like the real Marley at all except for the grace and the voice; Marley's sweet voice did sound like a purr vibrated underneath, come to think of it. 

Marley's songs would come on Sirius sometimes, and Tina and Sam would listen to it on Saturday or Sunday mornings, over bagels and lox (cream cheese for Sam), while Marley the cat washed her face and looked innocently, deceptively, delightful. Their wide first-floor window overlooking their Lower East Side street would capture the young families strolling by, and old people in love taking their constitutionals, and teenagers bouncing basketballs down the sidewalk on their way to the public courts. It was a nice view, and close enough to all the art galleries in Chelsea where he had showings and parties. Sometimes he'd arrange Marley's songs for the guitar and he'd serenade Tina, especially if she'd come home from work in a bad mood, or they'd sing songs together until the wee hours of the night.

It was a peaceful life, before the warp and weave of their marriage unraveled. But in the end, after the dust settled, it wasn't an angry divorce either, which in the history of all the divorces in New York City, could be a rarity in that land of $10000-a-month clothing allowances. It was almost amicable. Sam was perfectly happy to give up his home - the home he'd shared with Tina for nine years - as long as he got three other things: Joe Hart, his art supplies, and his guitar. Everything else was replaceable, and they split the money down the middle, too. Joe Hart was a happy, barky Komondor dog, and adorable, with his long cords - very reminiscent of another Joe Hart's high school dreads; just white and corded instead of black and woolly. Joe Hart would bend down on his front paws and wag his tail at Marley, wanting to play, but Marley would have none of it - she ignored him haughtily and would go seek Tina for respite as she struggled to garden in their window boxes. Sam loved Joe Hart because he understood what was said to him. He'd look up at Sam through his cords with big brown eyes and a lovable pink tongue that hung out of his mouth when Sam talked to him. Tina hadn't always understood when Sam talked to her, and sometimes they'd have short, sharp, nasty arguments that inevitably brought up the past, and each argument would fracture the ice beneath them just a little.

Sam loved Tina - he'd loved her - it was just that they couldn't make each other happy and they'd both needed to seek happiness elsewhere. And some downs of their marriage had been, well, _down down down_. So, as Sam waited for Tina in a dim bar on the night of the day he got his copy of the divorce decree, he wondered if this thing between them would go down in the Bitter Exes Club book, if she still had it - by now, it'd be old and frayed and the worse for wear, but Tina kept, neatly filed away, everything related to McKinley. They both did.

II  
Mike and Mercedes had hoped to keep their embryonic relationship until wraps, but someone had seen them holding hands at the Lima Bean already, and the whisper-web of rumor reached Tina's ears before Sam's. So it hit Sam like a ton of bricks, while Tina had had the time to fume and hiss like a boiling kettle.

Mike and Mercedes weren't holding hands at McKinley on the day they came up to help the Glee kids for Regionals. It didn't matter. Tina's stony angry glare followed Mike and Mercedes as they tiptoed down the hallway to the choir room. Needless to say, Tina did not have a productive rehearsal. She flat out refused to take direction from Mercedes and she followed the other girls' dance steps well enough that she didn't have to talk to Mike at all.

Sam was stunned, because he hadn't heard from Mercedes in a long time - they hadn't kept in touch as well as they should have, especially after he'd started dating Brittany. Nevertheless, he'd expected to at least hear from Mercedes that she would be back in town - much less that she had a new man, and that man being Mike. But Brittany had broken up with him, right after MIT started recruiting her, and he was feeling sensitive both about his college prospects (which weren't great at that time) and his way with women, too. So it was all he could do to follow along because he was existing, numb, in a dense cloud of hurt and embarrassment. He also couldn't look at them. But he did notice the other corner of the romance quadrangle - Tina - seething with rage.

So when Sam checked his Twitter between seventh and eighth period and saw Tina's DM, he wasn't surprised.

@clockworkangel95  
you in for a mtg 2mrw after school? library

@evanevans  
sure wht abt?

@clockworkangel95  
new club, bitter exes club

@evanevans  
food?

@clockworkangel95  
if you take me home, mom took my car

III  
They all met in a square, set with single chairs set about a low table: Tina, Kitty, Dottie, and Becky. There were cookies set out on a paper plate and cups and apple juice. There weren't any seats left when Sam strolled in, late, so he had to sit on the carpet by the cookies and juice and listen, awkwardly, because he was the only guy there. Tina looked up and barely acknowledged his presence. She wasn't doing anything except to write furiously in a blue notebook and nod, cheeks reddened and bowler hat askew and gold goggles tossed onto the table.

Dottie had been complaining in that high, whiny voice, glasses perched on the tip of her nose: "... and he said he wouldn't stay with me unless I put out. Doesn't he know I'm saving myself for Justin Beiber? I gave Brett _six months_ of my precious teenage years and he up and dumps me! I even helped him with his _homework_!"

Kitty's brand of bitterness was more sulky than acrid: "Try going out with a guy who barely graduated high school and who doesn't even put you down as a co-writer on his stupid screenplay. As if some Ph.D at Lima University knows how to write better than me." She flounced and tossed her shiny blonde curls over her shoulder.

Sam counted how many steps it would take for him to reach the library door, Tina be damned, because the level of boiling estrogen in the room felt like it was reaching an all time high and it soon wasn't going to be safe to be a man in this room.

Becky preferred a more straightforward approach to her bitterness: "Men are only good for _one thing_."

There were a chorus of agreement and more ominous mutterings and "yes ma'am!". Sam was making noises like a trapped animal, so he stuffed his mouth with cookies (carbs, yes, but this time for a good cause) because there was no charming, adorable Blaine around to take the edge off of the angry girls and Blaine wasn't bitter about his ex, anyway. But Sam was well and truly stuck, because he had to take Tina home, and angry or not, she needed to be safe. And, well, honestly? He _was_ bitter. He was bitter that every girl he'd ever dated at this school had dropped him like so many hot potatoes, as if there was something wrong with him.

Tina raised her chin and snapped (with outrage fresh and angry from the sulfurous spring): "My ex came back to visit and not only did he not tell me he was coming, he didn't tell me about his girlfriend and that his girlfriend is - I'm sorry, _was_ \- one of my best friends!"

It could have been the sugar rush or the bowler hat, but Sam had never noticed before that Tina looked... sort of cute when she was angry. He stayed. He kept on looking at her as he drove her home. And he kept coming.

IV  
"What are you writing about?" Sam asked after another meeting of Bitter Exes.

Tina's smile was wider nowadays, like she was happy to see him. It wasn't just because his arrival usually signalled the arrival of Blaine, who was a better friend to her than Sam was. Not that Sam couldn't be friends with her on his own; it was just something that until recently hadn't been a priority on his list of things to do. She was still writing and Sam was standing just behind her, ready to take her home.

"It's our minutes. I keep track of attendance and who leaves, because once our members get back into relationships, they leave the club."

Sam made sure to lean in close to her, over her shoulder - really close. "So they can't be single and then leave the club?" _She smells really good. And it's been a while._

"Sure, but no one's done that yet. Dottie got back together with Brett, which was a bad idea if you ask me, but it's her life, so... "

"Tell you what - why don't you start another branch of Bitter Exes. Just with me."

A half-smile curled around Tina's lips. "With you? Are you flirting with me, Sam Evans?"

He flashed a grin and purposefully flipped his blonde bangs up and applied that devastating drawl that Brittany had liked so much. "Why, no ma'am. There's no reason that friends can't be single and bitter... together."

She flicked her eyes down, then sharply upward through her black lashes. "What do I get out of it? Besides spite on Mike?"

He looked straight into her eyes, then at her mouth. "You get me, Miss Cohen-Chang. Sammy Evans is always a ton o' fun. And most girls would say I'm a good kisser. I'm good at a _lot_ of things," and Tina had known exactly what he meant.

 

V  
Tina and Sam kept up whatever this was - because it most emphatically _wasn't_ a relationship, despite what they told themselves - for a long time. They told worried Marley and worried Ms. Pillsbury and worried Artie that it was just more meetings of Bitter Exes, and if they happened to end up making out in his room or in Tina's basement after the (private) meetings, then so be it. Sometimes that's all they did, talk about their lost loves, and why they lost them. Quinn and Santana and Brittany had made Sam bitter, and Mike, even more so for Tina. But he never mentioned Mercedes to her and she never brought up Mercedes to him. They re-hashed it all and moved earth again and again and it was just nice to vent to someone who finally understood. Then they'd cuddle and tell each other that they were glad they found each other to be bitter with.

They held hands and went to movies and ate lunch together and sang cute duets and went to senior prom, because they knew all the rules of high school dating. Sam went to Tina first for help on his essays and she danced and sang for him while he prepared his portfolio for the schools he dreamed of. He defended her honor when Mr. Schue kept passing her over for solos again and carried her books for her and critiqued her essays - not that she needed the help, it was that she asked him to anyway, to save his pride. And he loved her wardrobe; her clothes were art in and of themselves, and Tina wore them so artfully and deliciously well.

When Sam went to pick Tina up for prom, she had a boutonniere for him that she'd made herself and called "Ol' Blue Eyes". Sam knew he had to say it. He told her he'd love her forever and ever - right in front of her parents, no less. She gave him that shining, starry-eyed look in return and of course - she had to say it too, and her parents cooed, and took sweet pictures of them in front of their fireplace. They looked stunning together. (Tina still had that prom picture up, Sam reflected, in a slightly battered silver frame on top of their fireplace at home - her home now.) Meanwhile, Mike and Mercedes had called it off, but by the time heartbroken Mike had gotten up the nerve to call Tina, it was halfway through prom and the phone rang and rang while Sam and Tina were most emphatically busy in the backseat of his truck.

Only Blaine would look at them sideways, with arched eyebrows or a saddened expression in his caring hazel eyes, as if to say _You guys should be careful_ , but he was well into his second try with Kurt and he had had other, more matrimonial matters on his mind. Mercedes didn't contact Sam for a long time; they became more distant, wish-you-well friends, the sort you sent a Christmas card to but didn't expect a response from. Which was a shame, because Mercedes loved the softer, sweeter Sam and Sam had always known that Mercedes was his softer, sweeter self. Or he did. Whatever crumbs of Sam that Quinn and Santana and Mercedes hadn't dropped, Brittany had picked over; not that it was her fault, exactly, for being smart enough for MIT. It was that she was leaving Sam behind and she was the last woman that Sam vowed would _ever_ leave him behind _ever_. Tina didn't stand a chance.

VI  
Off Sam went, trotting behind Tina and Blaine's heels, to New York, and they all shared a cramped two bedroom apartment for a couple of years and hopped back and forth between there, school, work, bars, and the Hummelpezberry loft in Bushwick. Blaine's stellar audition got him into NYADA (of course), so they all got cheap student tickets to concerts and off-off-Broadway shows. They met Kurt's friends at Vogue.com, and Rachel's friends, and Santana's friends. It was all very exciting and glamorous for three nobody kids from Ohio.

Tina didn't get into NYADA - yet another star snubbed by Carmen Tibideaux - but she settled for the dance program at Tisch. She still enjoyed the school and she made friends of her own, but it would have been vastly preferable to be at NYADA with Kurt, Blaine and Rachel. Sometimes, this stung, especially when the three of them would talk about teachers or funny things that happened at school - just as they had done at McKinley, except she was forced to laugh or smile politely while they raved and ranted. She still sang like an angel, so she and Blaine would sing duets while Sam played the guitar on the rare evenings when they were all in, or they'd go to karaoke bars, and one time they burst into song on Christmas Day on the subway - and got tips. 

The McKinley kids also all went to her dance recitals, when they were in town, except for Marley and Rachel, whose soaring careers meant the receipt of nice notes and bottles of champagne instead of personal visits. Mercedes' notes and flowers would inevitably be cast aside in the hallway, somewhere. Tina could rely on Sam and Blaine and Kurt, who gave her lavish flower bouquets, and they'd stroll, arm in arm, down the city streets and pretend they were someones. She wore one of Kurt's designs for the party after her last dance recital. She spun around in the dress at the apartment after they got home, laughing and exhausted, and Sam never, ever forgot how carefree she looked.

Sam had gotten into Pratt, for his art, but he was only on a partial scholarship and he worked, bartending and odd jobs, every minute that he could get. New York was expensive, and the Pratt was expensive, but Sam finally felt as if he was living the life, even though he was tired, tired, tired. But he had his friends. And he had Tina, so he wasn't going to let Tina get away because she was real and art and music were real and his friends were real and that was all that he knew. They were all courteous roommates and they had "gettin' some" rules and they followed them, because Sam and Tina both loved Blaine. But by all outsiders' accounts, Sam and Tina's relationship was... odd. It was frenzied and not, well, not quite well thought out; but everyone loved them both, so they kept their distance and said nothing.

He knew just how well he'd chosen Tina on the night of his first big student show, his senior show, and everyone had dressed up to the nines. Sam couldn't stop himself from looking for Mercedes, and chastised himself for it, because why should she be there? Finn and Puck, looking rather ill at ease, stuffed canapes in their mouths; Brittany ooed and ahhed and danced around the weird installation art; Blaine and Kurt made the gallery more dapper just by the sharp cut of their suits, and Rachel had flitted in and out on her way to a second, more glamorous party with a generous kiss on the cheek for Sam and a whispered, "Are you sure?" for Tina. Tina had jerked up her chin at Rachel and flashed her eyes, but the little ring - all that Sam could afford - gave her the right to be defensive. They were the second of their group to get married - second to the perfect Blaine and Kurt - and damn it, they were going to be perfect too.

She was beautiful in her red off-the-shoulder dress and his ring and she charmed the hell out of two of the guests who eventually bought - _they bought_ \- his portraits and a statuette that Sam had honestly thought was worth far less than what it was valued at - but he was grateful and pleased and stunned. Artie had even promised to show some pictures of the remaining works to a few art dealers in LA. Santana, elegant in purple, looked around at the showing and the people and gave him a short, impressed nod and a raised wine glass in tribute. There was a buzz about the showing that whispered "up and coming" and "new star" and there was, later, a brief and significant bolding of his name in a tiny paragraph in the arts section of the New York Times. But all he really treasured from that night was Tina's bright, proud kiss, and he still would never have traded that for a million bucks.

Later that night, he gave her the one statuette he'd held back from the senior showing, the one he told her he would never, ever sell. He'd called it "Forever Dancing," and that was the night they made love for the first time. She cried and he cried and it was beautiful by the light of the candles - their candles.

He was doing well for himself, given the circumstances, and his life story made his work more relevant and interesting. A year passed. They got married at City Hall with just Blaine and Kurt and Santana and Rachel and all the parents and Stevie and Stacy - who all looked at each other askance, not because of the ethnicity issue, but because they'd expected a bigger wedding with more than the immediate family present. He established a little corner in their apartment for a studio and they settled in to make something of themselves in the New York arts scene. He wasn't a runaway success, but he was doing all right, and he was meeting people who were also trying to help him. Sometimes money was tight; there were times they did real well after he sold pieces, and there were times when they were close to food stamps. But they slowly, gradually, climbed upward, mostly thanks to Sam.

It was Tina who was really struggling with her own career, and even though she did love him - she did, she was always so proud of him and supported him - she was having more difficulty breaking into bigger roles. She danced beautifully, stunningly, even, but even in the dance world there were Rachels to outshine and many times, she did not. In the meantime, there were bills. She did chorus work, and understudy work, and her drama performance minor helped her get a few smallish acting gigs. She was dependable and showed up to work on time and performed on cue. She still loved the life, how could she not? She was just having trouble getting her engine fully revved up. It frustrated her.

"Sweetheart," he said as he did the dishes in their tiny kitchen, "I was talking to some people who came by that show last week - you know? - and they said they'd love to meet you. They know a producer who's looking for a fresh face - singing and dancing, a lead. You want me to get you in?"

She looked up from their sofa, where she'd been skimming house ads on the Internet, and she sighed. "Come here, Sam."

He came to her obediently, hands dripping with suds. She took them and held them tight and she looked into his eyes.

"I think I'm going to give up on performing as a career."

"Why, Tina? Performing's your life."

"I just can't break in to the business," she said tiredly. "I feel like I should be getting somewhere better, faster, you know? Maybe I'm impatient, but I do want it all - and when I'm young, not when I'm middle-aged."

"But the right roles will come along, and who knows, this might be it." He smiled at her. She was so bright. She was so talented. Surely the world would see it too.

She pulled her hands away. "I shouldn't need your help. I should be able to get there by myself. I do appreciate it -" because she saw the hurt, raw puppy dog look on his face - "but no, Sam. I need to do this on my own."

The snappish tone in her voice cut him to the quick. He wordlessly went back to the dishes, but she came to him later, and apologized so heartily that he forgave her. The next week, she went in to an interview for a theatre tech position, showed off her quick needle skill, and got the job. She rose quickly after that, because she sewed and designed and supervised with ruthless efficiency and she was excellent at it. She let the needles do the job her dancing would have done for her. She built a reputation fast. Sam sold more art and they eventually scraped together enough for a down payment (with help from both sets of parents) for the townhouse in Chelsea. He kept on telling himself that it wasn't his fault or her fault that she'd had to give up what she loved just so that they could make ends meet.

She still went to his gallery shows on his arm, beautiful as ever, but she was looking more brittle. She still said she loved him, and Sam believed - still believed - that she did. She was working late a lot. Sam was getting more and more absorbed in his work as his own career took off. Sam would retreat to his studio at the back of the house with Joe Hart. Sometimes he would have to go to late night parties (the more people you know, the better) and she would be so tired that she would tell him to go on alone. Or he would come home early from his volunteer work, artist-in-residence at a few local public schools, hoping to catch her in a happier mood. She wouldn't be home, and the house would be lonely even with Joe Hart and the angsty Marley. Or (he sensed this, because he knew her) on the evenings he wasn't home but she was, she'd put on some recordings he made for her, of him strumming his guitar singing old country tunes in that drawl she loved so much, and dance and sing around the living room while Joe Hart tried to dance with her in his shaggy, doggy way.

Sam was lonely. He knew she was lonely, too. The problem was that neither she nor he knew what to do about it. They went on a few vacations together - love-soaked weeks in a cozy bed-and-breakfast or one time, in a cabana on the beach in Puerto Rico - and it jump-started the energy between them, but soon the grind would start up again, and the arguments would start up again, and about the most trivial things, too. Home got to be a touchy place. His pieces stopped selling when he had that horrible dry spell and nothing artworthy came out of his muddled head. So when he fell into bed with the sister of the owner of one of the galleries he'd showed at, he told himself that it was a mistake, a scratch for an itch, because the only scratch he could abide was Tina, and she wasn't there.

When he fell into bed with Evie again, Tina walked in on them, early from work for once. That was the day Tina threw Forever Dancing against the wall, and even though it didn't break or shatter, it cracked, and Sam never tried to repair it. Sam had thought long and hard about that moment, and he realized, too late, now, at the bar, that Tina had never really forgiven him for that. He tried to call up Mercedes, just to talk about Tina, but she never picked up.

VII  
Tina crashed at Blaine and Kurt's for a week and didn't answer his calls. Kurt wouldn't talk to him at all, and Sam could hear her in the background while he tried to get Blaine to put her on the phone. Blaine would softly and compassionately pass him short messages: _She's okay. She's going to work. She's not well, and you should talk to her when she comes back. I promise she'll come back to you. You know she will._ He'd go see Sam at a bar, alone, and they'd talk about relationships, but Sam felt guilty for putting this all on Blaine when he was so blissfully happy with his own marriage. Marley the cat moped for her and Joe Hart sniffed and stared out the window; even though Sam was his favorite human, he missed her careless pats, too. 

When she returned, Sam opened his arms and held her tight tight tight and he promised her he'd never, ever, ever break her heart again. She cried against his shoulder and told him she was pregnant. That was the second time they made love, and yes, he cried, and she cried again, and they lit candles, and it really did seem like things would get better.

But it was November when she got pregnant and January when she lost the baby. They cried again, because this was a desperately wanted baby, and - he? she? they never knew - would have fit in their cute home with Marley and Joe Hart. She threw herself into her work and he retreated to the studio and there was little to say between them for a year except the meals and housecleaning and vet visits and his showings and her plays and performances and concerts by the other McKinley kids, which they both still attended together - looking happy and flawless.

He knew her and she knew he knew her and she knew him. He drifted into a second affair, but ended it quickly during the same weekend that she cheated on him too. She'd chosen someone who was also married, and Sam knew, without anyone telling him, who the other man was. Sam was the one to throw Forever Dancing against the wall this time, because Mike had always been his friend, and Mercedes, at least, deserved better. That fight was the most epic and Sam yelled and Tina yelled and both Marley and Joe Hart hid underneath their bed. At least - he had to say to himself - Tina had had the courtesy not to use the bed - their bed - for that. Mike and Mercedes divorced six months later. 

By this time, they'd been together so long they knew they had to give their relationship one last try. It was time; so Sam and Tina began couples counseling the next week. It almost worked. The next few years was almost blissful. They were getting back into a more loving rhythm; healed over, it probably would have gotten better with time. They got back into the routine of Saturday or Sunday brunch and shared household chores and painting the house and evenings in with songs and guitar playing and plays and his showings and it was almost living. Sam's father died, and Tina's mother died, then her father too; and they held each other and cried like little children and talked it all out. 

It would have worked, really, if Tina hadn't come home one night and earnestly - quietly - and using the best and most courteous and polite language, asked him if he minded if she carried Kurt and Blaine's first child as their surrogate. And Sam had said no. He hadn't minded at all. He'd even hugged her. And when he thought about it later - watching her by the light of his bedside lamp as she slept next to him, cuddled up underneath the white duvet with Marley purring contentedly in between them - something bothered him. It wasn't because he didn't want Kurt and Blaine to have the best and the most loving surrogate possible - of course he did. It was that he didn't mind that Tina wanted to do it.

They made love the following morning, slowly and regretfully.

She said afterwards: "I know you don't like it, but this is what I want to do - for them." Her face was flushed and she looked beautiful after he'd touched her - she always did.

He said, a little shortly, as he pulled on a shirt: "I know. It's fine. Really. What I don't understand is why you won't try for a baby - another baby - of our own."

Tina looked sad. "Don't you think it would have happened by now? I wanted your baby, too. I tried, too."

"There's adoption. Hell - there's surrogacy. We could have our own surrogate. Why - why won't you try?"

She pulled herself up. "It.. it might be too much water under the bridge, Sam. I might be tired of trying."

He sighed. "I'll go to Kurt and Blaine's this time. We both need to think. Alone." And after a month apart, Sam called her up; but she got in first with her request for a divorce. They switched places. Tina lived with Kurt and Blaine during their separation and the nervous papas got to coo over Tina's swelling body. When the divorce decree arrived by certified post, a few months after little Elizabeth came into the world, Sam knew that it was all over. That's when she called him and asked to meet at their bar. 

VIII  
So there she was, sliding through the bar crowd in her blue dress, and by God, Tina was beautiful, elegant and smart, too; but she was a long ways away from the hopeful girl he'd known at McKinley. 

Matching with her blue dress was a tattered blue notebook under her arm; and for the first time in a long, long time, Sam laughed. 

"Tina, I can't believe you brought the Bitter Exes book here."

"I couldn't help it," she said, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek that was friendly and open. "We just ended something, so I thought it would be healing to go back to where we started."

"Why are we all of a sudden okay?" Sam asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders, lightly, and sat opposite Sam at the booth. He passed a glass of red wine to her and she took it. "For my part? I think because even though I wrote everything down, I had never read it. Until today. I don't need it anymore. Do you want to read it?"

He didn't hesitate. "No," and took a sip of his beer. 

"We started out all wrong. And we kept on making the same mistakes. And I kept on blaming you for my issues. Dance. Mike. "

"I didn't help by not being willing to work enough at us or to give us a chance. Mercedes."

"These revelations could have saved us some time if they came earlier," Tina said dryly.

"Did you really love me? Despite Mike?"

She didn't hesitate. "Yes, I did. Did you really love me? Despite Mercedes?"

"Yes, I did." He stopped and breathed in deeply. "Do you think we would have been better as friends this whole time?"

"Yes. I do. But I don't regret what we did, or what you did, or what I did. We'll know now how to be happier - and not so bitter."

The Bitter Exes club dissolved. "What will you do?" Now that they didn't have all of their marriage hanging over them, maybe, Sam thought, they could start over as friends. 

"Stay in New York. Work. Take up dance again. Teach Elizabeth to dance. Wade into the shark-infested waters of the dating scene, maybe. What will you do?"

He didn't hesitate. "I'll take Joe Hart and my supplies and my guitar and make art in the Appalachians for a few months. But I'll go see Finn in Lima before taking off. Get some guy time in."

"Mercedes is in Lima right now, too. She's visiting her family. Tell her... I'm sorry. Or I will, when I get up the courage to see her."

"You should tell Mike that I'm sorry too, but I don't know if he'll talk to me." 

"Let's not be bitter the next time we meet up here in New York."

"Deal." They smiled at each other fondly, and that was that. Tina was the first to leave, alone, and she left the Bitter Exes notebook at the table so its ghosts wouldn't haunt the townhouse in Chelsea anymore. Sam fiddled with his empty beer bottle and went back to Joe Hart and the hotel room at the end of the night, alone. He left the notebook there, too.


End file.
